Night Music
by garnet filigree
Summary: Tyr contemplates destiny, faith and the things that cannot be. A very short first-person fic.


Title: Night Music  
  
Author: Europa  
  
Rating: PG – it's pretty tame stuff  
  
Email: cressid@email.com  
  
Spoilers: Immaculate Perception  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not making any money, don't mean to step on any toes, OK? I'm putting them away when I'm done playing.  
  
Thanks to J and D for great beta reads – you two have some real patience!  
  
Remaining mistakes are mine, all mine!!!!  
  
Written in first person, so throw the grammar books away. Good sentence structure is the first casualty of this fic. Oh, and BTW, this is moderately AU – suspend your disbelief.  
  
Summary: Tyr has a late night visitor, an old friend who comes to ask a question. Confession is good for the soul, right?  
  
  
  
Night Music  
  
"What I possess, as if far off I'm seeing,  
  
And what has vanished, now comes into being."  
  
- Faust – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe  
  
  
  
How did it begin? I can give you no easy answer – perhaps there never was* a beginning. The bond we share is as eternal as the universe…and as ephemeral. A dichotomy? Of course – but when were we ever anything less? Could any of you have imagined what Rebecca and I would become?  
  
Regardless of how I wish otherwise, I have learned that some forces are simply too powerful to deny. She has always been that; primal…irresistible. I can admit it here, in private, though I would deny it with my last breath were anyone to openly question me. It was inevitable. I will always be hers.  
  
Part of me despises this weakness, you understand, but I am powerless against it. She has taken up residence deep within me and there is nothing to be done. Tonight, while I lie in the arms of my wife, my need for Rebecca will overtake me. I will join my body with another as my soul cries out for what it can never have.  
  
And my fair enslaver? Does she know that even now I cannot resist the lure of her song? Certainly; this is the very essence of our union. Like two stars caught in each other's orbit, we circle endlessly, unable…or unwilling…to break free.  
  
Some would call this justice for a life spent in pursuit of opposing goals. Trance puts it somewhat differently, telling me in that disarmingly mangled way of hers that I can't eat my cake and have it, too. The passing of time has vindicated her rather bizarre brand of wisdom. Would it have mattered so much if, just this once, she had been wrong? Still, I am undeterred…I will make of my life what I wish. The son of Victoria and Barbarossa will never surrender.  
  
And there you have it, the lie that I tell myself, a balm to my wounded psyche. After all these years I wonder why I still bother when the truth is so pathetically obvious.  
  
Rebecca once remarked that Dylan and I were evenly matched, two sides of the same coin. I never denied it - my position was stronger for their acceptance of me. In my soul, however, I knew that my mate was a woman of pale skin and quicksilver temper. There are no words to frame it…the pain of this knowledge is beyond description. No matter how great my desire, I can never have her.  
  
Cicero once said "The greater the difficulty, the greater the glory." While I agree in theory, experience has, regrettably, taught me a slightly different lesson, and it is this; the greater the destiny, the greater the cost. Believe me when I say that Destiny is both a demanding and unforgiving mistress. If I remain faithful to her my plans shall come to fruition. Eventually my son and I will stand at the head of a unified Nietzschean nation. I must stay the course - I will stay the course - but how bittersweet the harvest. Were I a religious man I might rage against a God who offers paradise with one hand and purgatory with the other. For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?  
  
Where is the balance in the equation? There is no divine revelation; God is dead and the stars care not for our inconsequential, fleeting sorrows. I twist in this web as surely as any captive fly, and Rebecca is trapped here with me. Do I have the strength to free myself? No, though perchance I might be able to aid her escape. Of course, it will never happen. If I am condemned to spend the rest of my days here I do not intend to lack for company.  
  
Dylan has told me many times that what goes around comes around. He may very well be right…in any case, I like the symmetry of the notion. Should I be the only one to writhe in such exquisite agony? No? Good. Let me confess that I take a quiet pleasure in knowing she will never have a husband – never bear a child that is not mine. I find some measure of consolation in that certainty, and if you think me cruel, well, I will not argue the claim. In any event, Rebecca has always held her own. She has the ability to reach me – to wound me – in ways no other ever could. Love and hate are the twin sons of an insane cosmos, are they not?  
  
We have never spoken the words, you see; we are very careful about that. It is, I believe, the only barrier between us. Once breached, Rebecca and I would utterly destroy each other, no matter how well intentioned our actions. Behold the way to Hell in all its tender glory…  
  
We have overlooked that smoldering abyss on many occasions. Each time one of us has somehow found the strength to step back from the edge. Yes, I'll admit that it was usually Rebecca who held us back from our own damnation. I understand perfectly why it has to be this way…but I will always wish we could have fallen into the pit if only for a night. Salvation has its price, my friend, and it is quite dear. No coin or credit can satisfy the debt; it must be paid for in dreams.  
  
The journey has been long and sometimes difficult. Our roads diverge more often than not. My feet are set upon the path of empire, while Rebecca remains onboard Andromeda, the loyal first officer to a once and future High Guard captain. Such are the choices we have made - they must be honored. In simplest terms, this is who we are.  
  
I am confident that I will see the rebirth of a united Nietzschean people. With the proper strategy – and a small amount of good fortune - my life will be long and fruitful, my enemies ground into dust, and I will die surrounded by my wives, children and grandchildren. My inamorata? Who can say - Rebecca is more than any strategy or chance can deliver. Perhaps I will place all that I am in her hands one final time. Call it a leap of faith, if you will. I can leave you with only this; my last breath shall be her name. 


End file.
